Several turned their heads, but seeing that we were but three, for the rest of our party had gone on, one of them replied:
"Ha! what do you want, old joker? A little of the spoil, I suppose. But you need not curl up your mustaches on that account. Here, drink a drop."
The speaker held out the cup, and the quartermaster took it and drank, looking at me as he did so.
"Well, young man," said he, "will you have some, too? It is famous wine, this."
"No, I thank you," I replied.
Several of the pillaging party now cried:
"Hurry, there; it is time to get back to camp."
"No, no," replied others; "there is more to be had here."
"Comrades," said the quartermaster, in a tone of gentle reproof and warning, "you know, comrades, you must go gently about it."
"Yes, yes, old fellow," replied a drum-major, with half-closed eyes, and a mocking smile; "do not be alarmed; we will pluck the pigeon according to rule. We will take care; we will take care."